


Mile Deep Hollow

by catbythefirelight



Series: Dream of Me, and Me Alone [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Anxiety, Assassin Katsuki Yuuri, BAMF Yuuri, Dark Katsuki Yuuri, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mafia AU, Non-Linear Narrative, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Russian Mafia, Scenting, Soul Bond, Unreliable Narrator, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 10:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbythefirelight/pseuds/catbythefirelight
Summary: If the world knew what Yuuri Katsuki was, they would call him an abomination; an omega who has chosen the life of a killer rather than that of a nurturer. Sometimes he thinks that his hands are stained too deeply with red for the blood on him to ever wash off completely – and he wonders if there’s something wrong with him for his lack of remorse. Regardless, perhaps this is the very reason that he and Viktor Nikiforov, the Pakhan of the Russian mafia, have always been able to understand each other intimately, even before they were mated.However, when Yuuri moves to St Petersburg to be with Viktor, the truth is bound to come out, and if Yuuri isn’t careful, the tenuous control he has over his life will be lost. In a life where death lurks around every corner, there is no looking back – the only way lies forward.





	Mile Deep Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are in the end notes. 
> 
> Title from the song Mile Deep Hollow by IAMX. (The lyrics fits this fic creepily well! And I only found the song after I was almost done with this fic!) This started as a very vague desire to try my hand at mafia fic within the bounds of A/B/O, and somehow it’s escalated into this. Yuuri and Viktor are saps in every 'verse, it seems! Haha! 
> 
> Some background info before you get on to the fic (optional reading, really, and not spoilery, but it may help clarify a few things you'll read): 
> 
> Bonds can only be formed between alphas and omegas, and is permanent (meaning that an alpha or omega can only have one bond in their lifetime, even if their mate dies). Alphas place their bite on omegas during sex to form a bond; the omega may bite their alpha back, but it is not necessary and most omegas find it distasteful. Newly-bonded pairs need daily sessions of scenting in close proximity, for a period of time ranging from 3-4 months, to allow their bond to develop fully. Separation will have a detrimental effect to both the alpha and omega’s health, and as the separation continues, the bond has a higher risk of being permanently damaged, and this may negatively affect the relationship between alpha and omega. The longer the separation, the more anxiety is felt on both sides of the bond, and behaviours such as increased aggression may manifest. On the omega’s part, there are several increased risks that come with separation, e.g. omega drop, experience of pain in their bond mark, erratic heat cycles and hallucinations. 
> 
> Omegian biology is typically not understood very well by the general populace unless they are omega or have close omega relatives; so many alphas and betas (and even some omegas) are not aware of the increased risk to omegas that comes with pair separation.

_Past – Tokyo_

Yuuri made his way along the shadowed streets, the collar of his dark coat turned up to cover his ears. His breath came out in puffs, misting the air before his face. Goosebumps prickled over his skin as a wave of the cold hit him. He had picked his hotel for its proximity to his meeting point, but there was still a ways to go. In his mind’s eye, he traced a mental image of Tokyo’s streets, going through escape routes. It soothed the part of him which agonized over all the ways this meet could go awry. Even after years of this work, he still worried endlessly.

He slowed as he reached his destination. The bouncer at the front lowered his eyes and opened the door, stepping back. The scent of alcohol and leather was thick in his nose. The deep bass of the music pounding from the speakers in the club settled in his chest. The sound of low chatter continued around him as he made his way to the bar.

Yuuri’s eyes caught on the familiar shape of the man seated at the bar, a glass of deep red liquid cradled in his hand. He cut an imposing figure, with his silver hair styled flawlessly and his clothes tailored to his body. The white fabric of his dress shirt did little to conceal the strong muscles in his back, rippling as he shifted on his stool.

“You’re early,” Yuuri said, as he drew up next to Viktor. He’d been meeting Viktor on-and-off for months, ever since he’d decided to lead negotiations with the Bratva. 

Viktor turned to face him, a slow smile curving his lips. “Yuuri,” he said, lengthening the _u,_ his voice rough around the _r._ His name sounded so natural, coming from Viktor’s mouth; he felt as if the only one in the world who should be saying it like that, so intimately, was Viktor. And as if the only one whose name Viktor should utter in that tone was Yuuri. “I was eager, I admit.” Viktor reached his hands out in expectation, and Yuuri eyed him for a moment before obliging him, turning around so that Viktor could slide his coat off of his shoulders, folding it neatly and placing it on the table. Yuuri moved to take his place on the stool beside Viktor. The bartender slid a glass across the smooth wooden table to Yuuri.

“I took the liberty of ordering a drink for you,” Viktor said, the white of his teeth glinting in the low light of the bar. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Yuuri took his time, lifting the glass off the table with the tips of his fingers and taking a slow sip. The wine burned pleasantly on its way down, and Viktor’s eyes flitted down, trailing the bob of his throat.

“It’s all right,” Yuuri said. He leaned to the side and fished through the pocket of his coat until he found a small, palm-sized leatherbound book. He handed it to Viktor. “Here it is.”

“Right down to business, I see,” Viktor sighed, but he accepted the book, opening it to flick through the pages. He stopped at a page with Cyrillic scrawled haphazardly in columns, and smiled wide, pleased. “Yes, this is it exactly. Thank you, Yuuri. Did he give you any trouble?”

Yuuri suppressed a smile. “He didn’t realize I was there until the last moment,” Yuuri responded, taking another sip from his glass. He sensed eyes on him from around the club. That wasn’t unusual – people were both wary and curious about Yakuza activity. Still, it meant that he needed to be on his guard, and to act a certain way. “I got him in a single shot. His secretary will find him tomorrow in his office.”

Viktor quietly chuckled, tucking the book into his coat. The sound seemed to come from a place deep in his throat, and Yuuri found himself unable to look away from Viktor, watching the way Viktor’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “As always, Yuuri, you are a consummate professional. What can I do to thank you?” His tone was undoubtedly suggestive, and Yuuri fought the flush creeping up his neck.

 _You don’t need to thank me, just keep coming back to Japan, to me,_ Yuuri thought, but then Viktor’s eyes moved to something behind Yuuri, and a sudden change overtook him – a dark look crossed over his face and he tensed as if making to stand. Yuuri tensed as tepid breath washed over his ear and he fought the urge to flinch away, disgusted.

“ _Little omega, won’t you let me take you home?_ ” the alpha crooned, his Japanese heavily accented. Viktor’s scent flared aggressively, but the alpha was so drunk that he barely seemed to notice.

With Yuuri’s slicked-back hair and the expensive clothes on his body, as well as with Viktor’s threatening presence by his side, the idea that this man would approach him was almost suicidal. Most visitors would know perfectly well that this club was a Yakuza haunt.

Yuuri whipped up a knife to the man’s neck before his fingers could touch him. The man gasped as he felt the knife slide against his skin, a small bead of blood swelling up where the tip of the knife met tender flesh. “ _It would be a good idea for you to step away now_ ,” Yuuri said, his tone low.

Another man, a beta guard, hurried over to them and dragged the drunk alpha away, spluttering apologies all the while and not meeting Yuuri’s eyes, clearly aware of what Yuuri was. Yuuri turned back to Viktor.

Viktor looked angry. “Such disrespect. I can have him dealt with, Yuuri.”

Yuuri prickled with annoyance. Did he look helpless? But Viktor was just attempting to be chivalrous, so he pushed down his irritation. “So could I. Leave it alone, Viktor.”

“Does that happen often here? Maybe we should have met in my hotel room.”

Yuuri’s first instinct was to reject Viktor’s suggestion, and just retreat to the alley or one of the back rooms of the club. But those places were hardly any more private than the bar, and something in him desperately wanted to be alone with Viktor. So he agreed, and they walked together to the hotel where Viktor was staying. The walk was quiet, lit only by a few streetlamps and the bright red neon signs of several convenience stores. Yuuri caught a glimpse of Takeshi bent over the counter of one of the stores, and dragged his eyes away before Viktor could see where he was looking.

At the hotel, they encountered no one on the elevator ride to Viktor’s suite. Viktor swiped his key card and let them in.

The place seemed empty, hardly even lived-in; all the furniture and decorations lay in place neatly, aside from one of Viktor’s coats folded over the couch.

“You came alone?” Yuuri cut a glance aside at Viktor.

“Ah, yes.”

“Why?” That was just about as good as painting a giant target on Viktor’s back. The list of people who wanted Viktor dead was endless, and doubtlessly growing by the day. Yuuri didn’t know whether to be impressed by Viktor’s self-assurance that he could protect himself entirely without backup, in a foreign country no less, or to be offended by the sheer extent of Viktor’s arrogance.

Viktor shrugged. “I wanted to have no distractions from you.” Yuuri felt pinned in place by Viktor’s stare.

There was the distant sound of shouting and the slam of car doors from outside. Yuuri jerked into motion, making his way to the window and dragging the curtain back to peer down into the streets. Viktor followed him, looking down over his shoulder.

A sharp intake of breath whistled between Yuuri’s teeth when he recognized Takeshi’s bulky figure, gesturing wildly to something behind him while shouting in another man’s face. There were several men cornering Takeshi against his store.

“We have to go,” was all Yuuri said, before he threw on his coat and raced out of the door. Viktor didn’t question him, following at his heels. They found the emergency staircase and raced down.

Yuuri burst into the hotel lobby and ran outside at breakneck speed, Viktor right behind him. Takeshi was taking on all the men at once, and he was strong, but he wasn’t as good as Yuuri and he would falter eventually.

Yuuri tossed a knife, and it hit one of the men in the back of the head. That drew their attention away from Takeshi. Another man threw himself right at Yuuri, and another at Viktor, and from there, Yuuri let himself loose.

He and Viktor fought in tandem – twisting around each other almost like two dancers, and Yuuri had never felt so alive before in his life. Viktor grappled with a man twice his size, and Yuuri launched himself at them and sank a knife deep in the man’s neck.

“Behind you,” Yuuri panted. Viktor whipped around and caught hold of his assailant’s arms easily, throwing him to the ground and taking hold of his head before twisting it to the side with a clean cracking sound.

When the last man was felled, Takeshi fell to his knees. “Yuuri, thank you, but how did you know I was here?”

“ _Are the drugs safe?_ ” Yuuri snapped at Takeshi, Japanese tasting strange in his mouth after being so immersed in the fight with Viktor.

“ _Yes, yes_ ,” Takeshi said, wheezing. “ _They’re in the store room, it’s locked and the keys are on me all the time. It’s, ah, good you came. But I must check –_ “ And he rushed into his store.

“I always knew you were something special, Yuuri.” Viktor stared at him intently, panting, a vision even with his hair a mess and his white shirt ruined with fresh blood and sweat. “Come back to Russia with me.” It was a question disguised as a demand.

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. _Yes, yes, yes._ He pulled Viktor to him by the collar and kissed him hard in answer. The Yakuza was his life. It was all he had ever known. But he would burn it all down for Viktor, and build something from the ruins.  

They didn’t leave Viktor’s room for hours afterward.

* * *

_Present – St Petersburg_

As dawn broke through the sky, rays of sunlight pierced through the gap between the curtains on their window, falling over the bed. Yuuri was already awake – a rare thing, Viktor was usually the first to wake between them – and watching as Viktor slumbered on next to Yuuri on his stomach, the sheets bunched around his hips. Yuuri watched the pale expanse of Viktor’s back move rhythmically with his breaths, and thought of shifting closer, to trace his fingers along the jut of Viktor’s shoulder blades, the divots between the place where skin stretched over bone and dipped down over flesh; the dip of his spine, the scar at his hip. But even such light touches would rouse Viktor, the light sleeper that he was. Viktor had come to bed late last night.  

The shrill ringtone of his phone pierced the restful quiet in the room. Viktor grumbled and pushed his head into Yuuri’s shoulder. “Make it stop,” he slurred, his voice heavy with sleep.

Yuuri grunted and heaved himself up on his elbow to reach for his phone. The harsh bright light from his screen blinded him for a moment. Yuuri fumbled to pick up the call. “ _Nee-chan?_ ” he said. “Why are you calling so early?”

The line crackled with the bad connection and Yuuri pulled his phone back from his face, frowning at the screen. “Mari?” he said, sharply, swinging his legs off the bed, feeling the remnants of sleep fall away as his nerves sharpened. He felt the bed shift behind him as Viktor sat up, prickles of concern coming down Viktor’s side of their bond.

“ _Yuuri, you’re not safe in Russia_ ,” Mari said urgently, her words tripping over each other in her haste. Yuuri could barely make out her words, as breathless as she sounded, as if she were running somewhere. The muffled sound of something metallic clattering repeatedly rattled in his ears, and it brought to Yuuri’s mind the image of a bag full of supplies slung on Mari’s back, thrown up and down by her movements. “ _I’m just coming back from Minako’s bar, she has news of an uprising brewing among Viktor’s men. You need to leave, Yuuri, you need to come home now_.”

“ _I’m not leaving Viktor_ ,” Yuuri said. He jerked in surprise as Viktor’s hand clutched urgently at his elbow. “ _Why? Where did this come from?_ ”

“ _They know about you. They know everything. All your work_ –”

His blood ran cold. _What?_

“ _The informant doesn’t know anything else. Yuuri? Say something!_ ”

But he couldn’t. His world was spinning around him. Viktor’s grip was bruisingly tight around his arm now.

“ _Yuuri, let me speak to Viktor._ ” Her voice brooked no argument.

Numbly, he passed his phone to Viktor.

He stood, moving over to the wardrobe and shrugging on the closest shirt he could find. He listened to Viktor murmuring into his phone while his head spun a mile a minute. Rebellion? Against Viktor? It was unthinkable. Viktor was known to rule his men with a firm but fair hand, and his reputation was fearsome. Even when his men disagreed with Viktor, they respected him too much to cause an upheaval. Until now, it seemed. And of course it would be because of Yuuri. He knew that the world didn’t think he was worthy to stand at Viktor’s side.

Yuuri didn’t wait for Viktor to finish talking to Mari. He pulled up his pants, tied the drawstring around his hips haphazardly and moved out of the bedroom. He hurried downstairs to the dining room. Mila, as Viktor’s right hand woman, would be the first among them to know if anything had happened. He needed to save this.

The sound of shrill laughter reached his ears as he approached the dining room.

“You’ve never seen my Anya dance, she could cast her spell on anyone,” Georgi was saying, his tone mutinous.

“Georgi, I don’t think anyone in the world sees Anya exactly as you do,” Mila remarked. She was the first to look up when Yuuri walked into the room. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his tense posture and the careless way he was dressed. “Yuuri? Is there something wrong?”

“Mari called me,” Yuuri began, tugging a chair away from the dining table to sit. “She said that Viktor’s men are rising up against him.”

“Against Viktor? No, I’d have heard of it.”

Yuuri rounded on her. “The Yakuza has spies everywhere. We see what you do not.”

Mila looked back at him, saying nothing, her eyes hard.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, pressing his fingers into his palms. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. But you can trust this information.”

Hurried, heavy steps thundered down the staircase outside the dining room. Yuuri glanced at the doorway. Viktor stumbled into sight, shirtless with his pants loose on his hips, and his hair a mess. It was rare to see him so dishevelled, and Mila and Georgi must be in shock. “Yuuri,” Viktor breathed. Yuuri rose out of his seat and went to him, his body moving as if on autopilot.

They retreated into the corridor. Before Viktor could speak, Yuuri declared, “I’m not leaving.”

Viktor looked stunned for a moment, and then conflicted. Relief and denial seemed to war on his face. Yuuri moved closer to grab Viktor’s hands and bring them to his chest. Viktor finally frowned and said, “I can’t tell you what to do. Yuuri, you must know that I always want you by my side. I feel so selfish for it. But what if I put you in danger?” Yuuri opened his mouth to speak, but Viktor interrupted him. “I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“You won’t have to. I’m not helpless, Viktor.”

Viktor smiled. “I know that full well, zolotse.” He tightened his grip on Yuuri’s hands. “Fight them together with me. We’ll kill them all.”

What difference did a little more blood on his hands make, if it meant a full life spent together with Viktor? Yuuri had always thought he wouldn’t make it past his twenties, his thirties if he was lucky. But Viktor had given him a reason to fight for more than that.

* * *

_Past – Moscow_

Yuuri looked at himself in the mirror. The lustrous black fabric of his dress clung to him as if it were a second skin, flowing all the way down to his ankles in smooth waves. The neckline of the dress extended in a deep vee that reached halfway down his chest, and his bond mark was perfectly visible at the juncture where the skin of his neck met his shoulder. The glitter of narrow silver gemstones placed strategically on his chest and at his hips caught the light as he moved. 

He typically didn’t wear dresses; it wasn’t an uncommon choice among male omegas per se, but it was considered to be rather old-fashioned. Long gone were the days when it was unacceptable for omegas to wear trousers. But he felt the influence of his omega, the all-consuming and greedy side of him that wanted to keep Viktor all to himself – he wanted to shock Viktor’s people, to show that there was no one else in the world, omega or beta or alpha, who could hold Viktor’s attention.

And this was the perfect occasion. The gathering they were attending was a celebration of his and Viktor’s marriage and bond – representatives from the Bratva’s allies all over the world would be present, all the eyes of the world on them to watch how Viktor’s new mate would comport himself publicly.

“Yuuri,” he heard a gasp from the bedroom door. Yuuri glanced up, surprised; he’d been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard the sound of Viktor approaching their room. Viktor stood frozen, staring at him with his mouth slightly agape. Viktor was already fully clad in his suit, tailored perfectly to his lean and muscled body; Yuuri eyed the way it emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the taper of his waist.

He felt smug at Viktor’s attention, and cocked his hips to the side. “Like what you see, _Alpha_?” he purred.

Viktor stared at him dumbly for a moment longer, and then a smile slowly curved his lips. “Yuuri, Yuuri, I knew you had something special planned for tonight, but I had no idea it was this.” He walked towards Yuuri and moved behind him, sliding his hands down Yuuri’s torso to grip Yuuri’s hips firmly. Heat washed over Yuuri at the proprietary touch, and he felt Viktor’s hands on him as acutely as if the barrier of his dress wasn’t between them. Viktor bent down slightly to plant his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of Yuuri’s neck and holding Yuuri’s gaze in the mirror. Yuuri leaned back against him, eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of them together.

“How did you know?” Yuuri murmured, breaking the thick tension in the room.

“Know what, zolotse?” Viktor rubbed his cheek over Yuuri’s neck, being careful not to smudge Yuuri’s makeup. Yuuri felt Viktor’s scent surge in the room, and his eyelids fluttered, lips parting.

“That I was going to do something.”

“You’ve been having that spark in your eyes all week,” Viktor said, lifting a hand to gently trace the sensitive skin under his right eye. “That one, the one you have when I know you’re going to surprise me.”

Later, mutters filled the ballroom as soon as Viktor strode in with Yuuri on his arm, people turning to stare blatantly at them. Yuuri held his head high. He knew perfectly well how he and Viktor looked together – untouchable, with their features sharp enough to cut glass, the look in their eyes daring anybody to challenge them.

They made their way to the champagne table. Viktor picked up two glasses and handed one to Yuuri. Yuuri took it and held it delicately between the fingers of his right hand, tucking the other into the crook of Viktor’s elbow as they made their way to the front of the room.

“Viktor, Yuuri, here you are!” Chris was approaching them, grinning, his cheeks already slightly flushed.

“Chris, I see you’ve been drinking,” Yuuri remarked.

Chris smiled at Yuuri lazily. “I’ve been mingling, and how can I say no when so many pretty little omegas offer me a drink or two? Or three.” He winked, and then leaned closer to Yuuri, his voice lowering dramatically until it was almost a whisper. “I’ve been talking to quite a few people here, you know, and they think you’re dangerous. That you’ll suffocate Viktor in his sleep.” Then his smile widened into a lecherous grin. “Suffocate him with your thighs, maybe. I’d like to see that.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, and Viktor threw his head back and laughed.

“Even when we are bonded, you do not stop your flirting,” Viktor chided, wrapping a possessive arm around Yuuri’s waist and tugging Yuuri closer. Yuuri allowed it, amused.

Chris laughed. “You know I mean nothing by it, _chéri._ ” He sobered and looked at them appraisingly. “You’ll be a force in this world together, my friends. They may mock you now, but they will come to fear you both like nothing else.” His tone was so sure, as if he were speaking prophecy and not mere speculation. Viktor only smiled, knowing and smug.

Before either Viktor or Yuuri could respond, they were approached by an unfamiliar alpha, his head bowed, holding out an envelope to Viktor. “Pakhan, a message for you from Don Crispino. He sends his most sincere apologies for his absence and prays that you will forgive him. His sister is pregnant and the baby is due any day now.”

As Viktor took the envelope, Chris remarked, “I’m sure dear Michelle is more of a hindrance than help to Sara. After all, she’s got her mate and the best doctors in the world. He’s probably driving everyone mad with his hovering.”

The alpha shot a glare at Chris at the dig at his leader, but he seemed reluctant to retort in Viktor’s presence. And it was wise not to offend Chris, not when Chris owned one of the largest drug cartels in the world. “Don Crispino takes his role as a brother seriously,” was all he seemed capable of forcing out from his mouth.

“I’m sure,” Chris drawled, his voice heavy with innuendo.

“You may tell the Don that Viktor and I send our congratulations to his sister,” Yuuri told the alpha. He dipped his head.

“Is there anything else?” Viktor said imperiously to him.

“Ah, yes,” he stumbled over his words. “Don Crispino hopes you will consider the contents of his letter carefully.”

“I will read it in private and give it the consideration it is due.” Viktor turned away, and the alpha dipped his head respectfully.

When the alpha had retreated, a man and woman approached. “My contacts in Moscow,” Viktor said to Yuuri, gesturing at them. “Daria, Volya, it is good to see you.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Daria said. Clad in a red dress with a black sash tied about her waist, she was projecting an air of cool self-possession.

“This is my mate, Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor introduced.

“A pleasure,” Yuuri murmured. Daria looked at him down her nose.

“Yes, I see. A foreign omega, really,” Daria said contemptuously, turning to Viktor and speaking as if Yuuri wasn’t there. Yuuri bristled, privately shocked that she would be so blatant in his presence. “There are others who are more worthy of being your mate, Viktor.”

“And Katsuki, you said? He is the son of the Yakuza leader, you cannot trust him,” Volya sneered. Yuuri looked at him stonily. “He will stab you in the back the moment you let your guard down.”

Yuuri was about to speak, but when he glanced aside to see Viktor’s reaction, he was struck silent. A realization seemed to have dawned over Daria and Volya that they had said the wrong things, but it was too late.

“If you will not accept Yuuri as my mated omega and husband, you have no place here,” Viktor said, finally, his voice raising. A hush descended over the ballroom. Viktor’s eyes were colder than Yuuri had ever seen them. His scent had built up until it was threateningly strong in the air around them. Some of Viktor’s subordinates cringed and lowered their eyes. “You will treat Yuuri with respect! I will hear no more of it!”

Yuuri kept his face expressionless, but his heart was racing as Daria and Volya were dragged away by the guards.

They didn’t even know half of what he was hiding. They would all but burn him at the stake if they knew, he was sure.

It was so stupid of Yuuri to think he could have kept it a secret forever.

* * *

_Present – St Petersburg_

Leaning one of his hands onto the barre for support, Yuuri swivelled his leg up and into the air, the muscles in his leg straining as his pointed foot arched upwards. He bent his torso forwards, extending his free hand before him as if in invitation, all the while keeping his upright split. He watched the way his body arched into the arabesque in the mirror.

Stepping away from the barre, he bent to thumb at his phone, letting his favourite practise music play. As the familiar tune wound into the studio, he gave himself over to the inner rhythms of his body and moved – one, two, three, he thought, pirouetting three times on tiptoe before he launched into a series of quick steps across the floor.

 _You could have been quicker_ , he thought, stopping to twist his arms into graceful arcs above his head. But he dismissed the thought as soon as it crossed his mind – no matter, he’d get it right the next time.

He arched backwards as the music slowed into a gentle thrumming of guitar strings. As the music picked up its pace, he twisted across the floor in a flurry of steps, stopping in the middle of the room to pirouette several more times. As he spun, his arms poised above his head, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His right leg arched at an angle at his side, with his foot slightly below the level of his left knee – the angle looked loose and it made his pose sloppy. _You have one more try._

Yuuri let his leg down and danced to the side of the room, before turning back to face the open space before him. He angled his arms out to the side and made his way forward, preparing – with his next breath, he jumped up into a grand jeté, his legs snapping up into a perfect airborne split. For the heartbeat when he was in the air, satisfaction sparked in him – but then he landed with a stumble, unbearably ashamed of that single moment of arrogance that had damned him. He picked himself up and hastened to catch up with the music, which was transitioning into its more intense second half.

He hadn’t made so many mistakes in a single routine since he was a teenager and presenting as omega.

With each new mistake he made, his body stiffened more and more. By now, he felt unpleasantly cold under the thin layer of sweat on his skin. Then, in the midst of an arabesque, something in the position of his foot changed and he lost his balance, tumbling to the floor in a graceless heap, hitting his knee hard against the wooden flooring on his way down. He gasped, curling in on himself and gritting his teeth. The furious rhythm of fast-paced piano keys reached a crescendo, the music continuing heedless of his pain. He cursed, feeling tears come to his eyes. When had he become so sloppy? Ballet had come as naturally to him as breathing, once. It used to be all he did, until he presented and his time was divided between ballet and training.

Minako would be so disappointed in him…

The thought choked him. He resolved to think of Minako no longer.

Viktor had told him once that his body moved like it was making music. It was one of the things which had attracted Viktor to him; how his dancing roots were evident even in the way he approached knife-play. Would Viktor love him, still, if he couldn’t do anything but flail clumsily on the dance floor, or if he lost every fight from now on? Once, the thought might have shocked him into getting up determinedly to try his routine again, but in this state, it just made him slump in defeat.

The rational parts of his brain told him not to be stupid, Viktor wasn’t like that. He loved Yuuri for more than just his body. He’d said so before, and if Yuuri couldn’t trust Viktor, who could he trust? But he also knew that his body was part of his worth. What was he good for if not for sparring and dancing? What possible reason could Viktor have to stay with him, if he lost himself?

He was at a loss for what to do. In Japan, there was always a job that needed doing. Here, things were different. Very different. Viktor didn’t make many important decisions or hold meetings without Yuuri present, but Yuuri wasn’t familiar with Russia, even though he frequently spent hours at a time pouring over maps and quizzing Mila on the confusing maze of roads in Moscow. As such, it was too risky to send Yuuri out for jobs. Besides, most of Viktor’s people didn’t trust him, and the ones that did like him wouldn’t understand Yuuri being sent out to do the Bratva’s dirty work.

No matter how much Yuuri itched for activity and work to do, there were expectations he had to pander to, for Viktor’s sake. He was a bonded omega now. He was already a burden to Viktor – the last thing he wanted was to add to Viktor’s ever-growing list of worries. Viktor had done everything he could to make Yuuri comfortable; the least Yuuri could do was to be grateful.

For a moment, he wondered what Viktor would say, if he told him what was going through his mind **.**

_I don’t feel safe here, Viktor. Everyone thinks I’m just some omega whore you picked off the streets of Tokyo on a whim, and you’ll tire of me soon enough…_

_Tell me who’s saying these things to you, I’ll deal with them_ , Viktor would say, his protective instincts as a bonded alpha flaring. In this, Viktor was too good for him, too good... _Don’t listen to them, Yuuri, they don’t know you as I do._

And there was no one who knew him as well as Viktor did, but maybe even Viktor didn’t know Yuuri as wholly as he thought. How could Yuuri _not_ hear the whispers, when all they did was give a voice to what lurked in the back of his mind?

Yes, there was no need to tell Viktor.

He supposed he should be happy that no one knew how much blood was on his hands. It was bad enough that they suspected him of heinous things – if only of spreading his legs for countless alphas every night, he thought wryly. He moved gingerly up from the floor and limped to his bag.

* * *

  _Past – Barcelona_

They eloped – and of course they had. Yuuri’s family had always disapproved of Yuuri leaving home to live so far away from them, to be with Viktor. Good relations between the Yakuza and Bratva or no, they didn’t trust Viktor as far as they could throw him, knowing perfectly well what life was like for omegas in Russia. Meanwhile, the pressure on Viktor to claim an acceptable female omega from any of his subordinate’s families only intensified after Yuuri came to Russia and had scarcely left Viktor’s side since. What other choice was there? Viktor, the incorrigible romantic that he was, had always insisted on them getting married before they finally bonded, and Yuuri couldn’t stand to wait any longer.

So there they were, a thousand miles away from Russia, standing in an empty cathedral in Spain, alone but for a priest. The priest, an elderly omega who smiled and sighed indulgently after hearing their wish to be married on the spot, had turned down the obscene amount of money Viktor had offered him. “I was young once, too,” he said, and refused to hear anything else.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Viktor said, slipping the ring onto Yuuri’s finger.

Yuuri’s eyes were rapidly filling with tears. Viktor smiled tremulously back at him, his eyes fixed on Yuuri as if unable to look away. In this moment, it felt as if they were the only two people who mattered in this world.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” he said, his voice sure through the immense emotion brewing in his chest. He slid the ring he was holding onto Viktor’s finger. _My mate, my Alpha. He is mine as I am his. Forever._

“We have here an alpha and omega, who tonight will be bound as one in spirit before the eyes of God,” their priest began, his solemn voice echoing around the grand cathedral. Yuuri didn’t wait for the priest to finish his recitation before he lunged forward to throw his arms around Viktor’s neck and kiss him. Viktor caught him and kissed him back sweetly, tipping Yuuri back in his arms.

Later that night, at the door of their luxury suite, Viktor hoisted Yuuri up his arms in a bridal carry, laughing away Yuuri’s weak protests. He kicked the door shut behind him, and carried Yuuri all the way to their bed. Yuuri wriggled out of his embrace and pushed him onto his back on the bed before stripping off as quickly as he could. Sprawled out on the bed where Yuuri had put him, Viktor only watched Yuuri with hooded eyes as he tossed his clothes carelessly to the floor.

Yuuri crawled on hands and knees over Viktor, his body moving fluidly. He hovered above Viktor to drink in the sight of him, and Viktor grinned before rolling him over onto his back. Then they were kissing each other wetly, Viktor bleeding want and reverence into his mouth.

They showered, after, and curled up together under the cover of their sheets. Viktor pressed slow, tender kisses to Yuuri’s fingers, purring low in his throat. Yuuri felt awash in sensation – the fresh imprint of Viktor’s teeth in the skin of his neck throbbed pleasurably with his heartbeat. He could feel nothing else but Viktor, Viktor, whose happiness and contentment was evident through their fledgling bond.

And now that they were well and properly bonded, their scents, potent in the air, blended perfectly to create a unique redolence that was purely theirs. From now on, Viktor would carry Yuuri’s scent with him wherever he went, so everybody would know that he was Yuuri’s. The idea satisfied Yuuri deeply. 

Yuuri shifted from his position on Viktor’s chest to tuck his face against Viktor’s neck. Viktor indulged him, letting him move and settling an arm back on his waist once he’d relaxed. Viktor was so warm – Yuuri snuggled closer to him. His mind was so quiet.

They lay there quietly for a few moments. A distant thought sparked in the back of Yuuri’s brain, and he hitched himself up on his elbow to look at Viktor.

“We can’t tell anyone in Russia what I really am,” Yuuri said urgently. “They can’t know.”

Viktor frowned. “Yuuri, we are together, partners in everything. Everything. My men will appreciate your skills, but only if we make them known.”

Yuuri shook his head. “They would hate me. They would – “ He bit his lip. _They would ask you to cast me aside_ , he was about to say, but he and Viktor were mated now. There was no separating them. He had heard of researchers in America testing ways to break alpha-omega bonds and being successful in some cases, but he doubted that it would ever be acceptable practise in Russia – many Russians were traditionalists, and bonds were sacred things, honoured in just about every culture. No matter their feelings about Yuuri, people would respect the bond he shared with Viktor. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t other ways to get rid of him.

It might only take a word from Viktor for his men to jump and throw themselves into the jaws of death, but that didn’t mean that his men would blindly accept Yuuri. The Bratva were notoriously insular – foreigners had no place in their personal lives. What Yuuri and Viktor had was unprecedented. As Viktor’s family, his men were obliged to protect Yuuri and any children he had with Viktor, but the doubts they had about Yuuri would be enough to make any protection measly and half-hearted.

No, he wasn’t going to give them anymore reason to hate him. He felt sorry for breaking the peaceful moment they were sharing before he brought this up, but this was important.

“They do not hate you, they just don’t know you yet,” Viktor said. “If we tell them, we’re giving them a chance to know you better.”

“ _No_ , Viktor. What if they overthrow you? What about – our children, in the future? They need protection. If they knew about me, they would think that I’m unfit to raise them.” Yuuri’s voice cracked a little at that.

Viktor was silent for a few moments, his expression unreadable. After a few moments, Viktor sighed. “Whatever you wish, Yuuri. We will keep your secret. But maybe you should think about exposing yourself, in the future.”

Yuuri wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Not in this life, I won’t.”

“My stubborn Yuuri,” Viktor said, smiling fondly. “Okay. What do you think about the proposition from the Italians?”

Yuuri recognized the attempt to deflect the conversation to a more neutral topic, and he smiled back at Viktor. It would settle the air between them which Yuuri had disturbed. As they immersed themselves in their discussion, Yuuri gradually relaxed against Viktor’s body again. But there was another thought niggling at the back of his mind, and he tensed again, turning to face Viktor. 

“The omegas in those whorehouses in Moscow,” Yuuri said. “I need you to get them all out once and for all, Viktor. They’re suffering. We can invest in drugs instead like the Yakuza.” Though it wasn’t as if life was perfect for omegas in Japan, either. He thought of Yuuko, narrowly saved from the same fate. Yuuko, with her smile that lit up the world, torn away from Takeshi and her children. No, he couldn’t stand it. All the same, he knew that omega trafficking had been part of the Bratva’s work for decades. He had no idea how Viktor’s men would react to dismantling such a thing. He waited with bated breath for what Viktor would say, watching Viktor’s face intently.

But Viktor only smiled back at him. “Anything for you, zolotse,” Viktor said. “Consider it done the moment we return to Russia.” And just like that, Yuuri’s mind was settled. Viktor was nothing if a man of his word.

Viktor nuzzled the side of his face, and Yuuri turned his head to kiss him, smoothing a hand over the fall of Viktor’s hair. _If only we could stay here, like this, for forever._

They ended up returning to St Petersburg in two days, when Viktor’s phone practically blew up with notifications, and Yuri threatened to fly to Barcelona and drag them back to Russia himself.

* * *

_Present – St Petersburg_

Mila received the news of Volya having made attempts to intercept the delivery of Chris's goods to the Yakuza, and she had heard rumours of Volya being seen in his brother's home in Yekaterinburg. Viktor left quickly after that - he had packed simply before pressing a hard kiss to Yuuri’s lips, and with that, he was gone, leaving Yuuri behind with nothing but a distracting burn in his bond mark as Viktor ventured further and further away from home.

After Viktor left, Yuuri’s first impulse was to curl up in their bed with scraps of Viktor’s clothes to drink in the remnants of his scent greedily, but Yuuri rankled at the idea. That was precisely the sort of thing that everyone would be expecting him to do. So, instead, Yuuri tried to keep himself occupied in their library, the dry, musty smell of old books thick in his nose, pouring over the Bratva’s accounts and working with Mila and Georgi to weed out the disloyal among Viktor’s men.

When there was nothing else to do but wait, like now, Yuuri found himself at the local firing range, fingers aching from the tight grip he had on his rifle. He squinted into the far distance. His shots were appallingly off-centre. His lips thinned. 

It had been so long since he’d had the time to visit a range to practise. Viktor had been with him all the time, and he had his guards, but Viktor wasn’t here anymore, and Yuuri didn’t feel secure anymore without the familiar weight of his gun or his knife on him. Yuuri looked back and couldn’t believe himself – so because he was bonded to a strong alpha, it had been perfectly fine to let himself become rusty? Did he want to become like one of those omegas who turned helpless and frail after they had bonded, dependent on their alpha for protection? Yuuri felt frustration build up in him and he hitched up his gun to fire multiple shots in succession at the target.

The shots were dead-centre this time. Yuuri lowered his rifle and made a wide gesture with his arms. An attendant hurried over to remove the target board and drag over a new board. The man picked up his binoculars to look at Yuuri, and Yuuri made another gesture. He dragged the target a hundred metres further. Yuuri waved him away, and the man bowed before retreating to the side of the field.

Some of Yuuri’s hair was dropping into his face, obstructing his vision. He’d slicked his hair back with wax in the morning, but that was hours ago, and now it was coming apart. Maybe the state of his hair was some sort of reflection of his steadily fraying nerves. He huffed irritably and used the sweat beading on his forehead to push it back from his forehead, before bending down to reload his gun.

He heard footsteps treading on the grass behind him. He glanced to the side, tense – was it news of Viktor’s return? Why would he return so quickly, though – what if he was injured? But no, he would’ve felt it in their bond if anything had happened to Viktor. And it was just Yuri, strolling over to him with a rifle in hand.

“So here you are.”

“Here I am,” Yuuri agreed. He looked away and tried to still his shaking hands. The bullets in his palm clattered together noisily. “Is there any news?” he asked, mostly just to distract Yuri, but judging from the pointed scowl on Yuri’s face, it didn’t work.

“No,” Yuri said, curtly. His tone seemed to be saying, _Don’t you dare try to deflect me, asshole._ “You’re getting sloppy, katsudon. Practising with just 800m targets?”

Yuuri finished loading his gun and stood, hitching his rifle up in his arms. “I haven’t been practising as much as I should have,” he admitted. His voice came out in a tone so subdued that he could barely hear himself. He could feel Yuri’s gaze on him.

There was silence for a moment as Yuuri breathed, in and out, squinting into the rifle’s eyepiece. The scent of gunpowder was hot and suffocating in his nose, but it made his senses sharpen.

“You’ve got to go easy on yourself,” Yuri said, sounding wary. _That’s not what he was saying before,_ Yuuri thought idly. “Your bond is still fresh – he shouldn’t be leaving you alone. It must hurt.”

It did – the ache in his bond mark was far from pleasant. At night, he would lie cold and alone in his and Viktor’s bed for hours, unable to get comfortable through the pain. He didn’t know how Viktor must be feeling, but he knew it wouldn’t be as bad as how Yuuri felt – such was the way omegas were built.

“I told Viktor to leave.” Yuuri looked down. It was true; he’d told Viktor that Volya needed to be dealt with for once and for all. This was their chance to live in peace. Wipe out the leader and the rest could be brought to heel. “He didn’t want to, but it was necessary.”

“Fuck that,” Yuri scoffed.

Yuuri snapped a warning glance at Yuri before reaching to pull his earmuffs up over his ears. Yuri rolled his eyes and followed suit. Yuuri scanned the horizon slowly through the eyepiece of the rifle and shot – one, two, three, four. He let his rifle down to shrug off his earmuffs, pick up his binoculars and check the state of the boards.

“So you didn’t tell him what would happen to you if he left.”

His shots had hit the centre of the target. It seemed that having Yuri here, getting his hackles rising with his recklessly provocative comments, helped Yuuri with his consistency.

“You’re mates now. Doesn’t that mean you should be honest with each other?” Yuri said, his scent souring with irritation. As a bonded omega, the scent of other alphas had no longer had any effect on Yuuri, thank goodness, but that didn’t mean that Yuri wasn’t stinking up the place. Any other time, Yuuri would have chastised himself for such a mean thought – Yuri had only presented a year before, and was still learning how to control himself – but certainly not now. He was barely restraining himself from saying something callous to drive Yuri off – Yuri would take forever to let Yuuri back into his good graces, the Pakhan’s mate or no.

“So you didn’t come here to practise your shots?” Yuuri snapped back. Who came to a shooting range because they wanted to have a tête-à-tête? Couldn’t Yuri see that he wanted to be left alone?

Yuri stepped up to him until he was practically a hair’s breadth away from Yuuri’s cheek. He hissed, “You can’t ignore what I’m saying forever. You’ve got to stop lying to Viktor and start talking instead.”

Yuuri’s thumb tightened on his gun until he felt like his finger would snap cleanly in two at the joint. Yuri threw his rifle to the ground, making a disgusted _tch_ sound between his teeth.  He strode away, and Yuuri was alone. 

***

After Yuri had left the range, a light ache had started up behind his eyelids, and it had steadily developed into a full-on migraine which made his temples throb painfully. It was certainly not any state for Yuuri to practise in, so he had set down his rifle and slipped into the nondescript black car waiting for him outside the range. His driver pulled away from the curb and made their way to Viktor’s mansion. Yuuri barely registered the trip through his migraine, and before he knew it, they were home, and he was making slow progress up the stairs. He encountered no one on the way. It was a little unusual, for the mansion was usually rife with activity, but everyone was busy and likely out of the house.

He sighed, pulling the door to his and Viktor’s room shut, hanging up his coat.

A sharp sound pierced the silence – a gun cocking. Yuuri whipped around in shock, his senses sharpening immediately.

Behind the gun that was aimed straight at Yuuri, Volya looked back at him, smirking. “I have you now, without Viktor to interfere,” he rasped.

“I thought you were in Yekaterinburg,” Yuuri said numbly.

“Oh, I was, my dear brother and his family were all very accommodating. They have a pretty little cabin in the woods, did you know? Very relaxing. But also isolated.” Volya raised his eyebrows. “I left a little something there for Viktor.”

Yuuri glared at him. “What did you do to Viktor?”

Volya grinned, exposing his yellowing teeth. “If he’s not careful, he may just blow himself up. Imagine it: boom!” he exclaimed gleefully. “And your precious Viktor will be lost forever. And if he survives that, well, there are always the traps I laid for him in the woods.”

Terror choked Yuuri and he was unable to speak. _Viktor, Viktor, where are you?_

“Cat got your tongue?” Volya mocked. “Well, no matter. I’ve got you now, and I’ll show you your place here. I was thinking, I should have you tonight, but I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

Yuuri looked at him with wide eyes, making no effort to disguise the fear building up inside him. It would only be of benefit to Yuuri if Volya underestimated him. His heart raced in his chest. “You don’t want to do that,” he said. “Viktor will kill you if you lay a hand on me.” He inched his hand closer to the knives hidden in his waistband.

Volya lips curled. The heavy scent of his arousal was leaking into the room, so strong Yuuri almost felt like suffocating. “Viktor isn’t here to protect you, not now, not next week. It’s time for you to learn your place, you little slut.”

Yuuri felt his face contort with rage. Suddenly, strength seemed to come overflowing from some reservoir deep inside him, and he swerved sideways. Volya started shooting at him immediately, and Yuuri rolled behind the bed, snatching a knife from his waistband. In one swift motion, he had thrown it in Volya’s direction. He missed.

He made one more try, this time risking a dash towards the bathroom. He needed cover –

_Bang!_

Yuuri staggered back. Pain flared at his right hip; blood bloomed bright over the white fabric of his dress shirt, and panic hit him like a bullet train. Volya barked out harsh laughter and suddenly was on top of him, the weight of his body squeezing the breath out of Yuuri.

Yuuri lashed out at Volya blindly, clawing until his fingers met the tender flesh of Volya’s eyes. Volya howled at Yuuri dug his nails in and tore blindly, wailing at Yuuri to stop. But Yuuri didn’t, he couldn’t stop, not until Volya started to writhe violently and pushed off of him.

As soon as Yuuri could move, he grabbed both his and Volya’s guns. He tried to stand, his first attempts failing miserably and ending in him crashing painfully to the floor, his legs shaking like a colt’s. But he managed eventually, heaving for breath and forcing himself to stay upright. He dug out some of Viktor’s rope, stashed in a box under their bed, and used it to bind Volya’s limbs together, ignoring Volya’s moans of pain. With that task done, he crept out of the room with his gun close to his chest. He had no idea if Mila and Georgi had been caught by Volya’s men. Pain was emanating from his hip, and his bloody fingers were slippery on the cold metal of his gun.

He pushed forward, trying to breathe as quietly as he could, inching his way down the staircase and listening intently. When he reached the bottom, he braced himself – but nothing greeted him besides the reflection of his sallow face in the mirror opposite him.

He limped his way down the corridors, finding each room empty until he found Viktor’s study. He pushed the door open. Mila was sat on the floor, staring up at him with wide blue eyes above her mouth, which was taped-shut. She was bound with thick ropes, her wrists bloody from her efforts to detach herself.

Yuuri collapsed on the ground next to her, undoing her bonds as swiftly as he could.

As soon as she was free, Mila was bending over him, grasping at him, almost hysterical. “Yuuri, stay with me. _Stay with me_.” But Yuuri was fading away, the corners of his vision blackening. Shocking pain suddenly flared along his left cheek, and he yelped, forcing his eyes open to see Mila glaring down back at him, her palm raised in the air. “You can’t. We need you. _Viktor_ needs you.” Viktor’s name pierced through the dazed, misty state of his mind, and he struggled to sit up.

Mila helped him until, gasping through his pain, he was sitting up against the wall. She grabbed his face and made him look at her. “Viktor’s on his way home. I heard about it just before the attack.”

Yuuri let his eyes fall shut for a moment, hot tears of relief leaking out from underneath his eyelids. Then he forced them open once more. He had a job to do. “Then we will have everyone ready for his return.”

***

Masses of people streamed past Yuuri, but he only had eyes for one man. As Yuuri saw Viktor come into sight at the far end of the airport, he shot forward. Viktor looked up and cried out, starting to run in his direction.

“Viktor!” he rushed into Viktor’s arms on unsteady legs and pressed his face into Viktor’s neck, breathing in deeply. Viktor’s scent, musky and pure and overwhelming, seeped into his nose. Viktor held him close in his embrace, clasping a hand tightly to the nape of Yuuri’s neck and the other to the small of his back. Viktor rubbed his cheek over Yuuri’s forehead, and something eased in Yuuri’s chest as Viktor’s scent rolled over him. The scent that lingered in their bedsheets was nothing compared to the real thing, and Yuuri’s breath hitched with the sudden emotion that surged in him.

He had no words for it. Not now, when he and Viktor were both trembling against each other.

Viktor was in hardly a better state than Yuuri – his hair was greasy and tousled under Yuuri’s fingers, and his breath was heavy and harsh.   

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed out, reverent, his voice quivering just a little. Yuuri pulled back slightly to hold Viktor’s face between his palms.

“I missed you, so much,” Yuuri said through the fierce ache in his throat. Unable to stand it anymore, he fisted a hand through Viktor’s hair and used his grip to tug Viktor’s face down until they were almost nose-to-nose. “Never again, Viktor. You’re never leaving me alone ever again.”

“Never again,” Viktor agreed, lips curling into a smile, and he took Yuuri’s lips in a fervent kiss. Yuuri moaned into Viktor’s mouth, returning the kiss with abandon, letting his body go pliant under Viktor’s touch. Heat pooled low in his stomach and he was dimly aware of the scent of their combined arousal leaking into the air around them. Neither of them paid heed to their guards, who shifted uncomfortably as they smelled the change in the air.

Viktor groaned and ran his wrists up and down Yuuri’s back, scenting him aggressively. Viktor’s scent surged over them both. The omega in Yuuri preened under the attention and he clung tight to Viktor, desperate.

He felt Viktor clutch him too hard at his waist. Yuuri hissed, jerking involuntarily, and Viktor flinched, instantly looking apologetic, his touches turning gentler. “Zolotse, I’m so sorry,” he said, and Yuuri shook his head. All the pain he felt didn’t matter so long as Viktor stayed close to him.  

“I felt it,” Viktor said, touching a hand to his cheek gently. “I felt it when he shot you.” His expression grew dark. Yuuri felt the connection of their bond slowly intensify with the burning strength of Viktor’s fury. “I wanted to hunt him down and fucking tear him apart.” 

“I caught him for us,” Yuuri said, “you can have the honour of killing him.”

Viktor broke the kiss first, and Yuuri’s lips chased after Viktor’s without his permission. As Yuuri opened his eyes reluctantly, Viktor touched a hand gently to his cheek and smiled, reaching to comb Yuuri’s hair away from his forehead in a soothing gesture. Then, Viktor’s eyes grew colder and his demeanour shifted, and just like that, he looked more like the cutthroat Pakhan the world feared and less like the desperate, needy alpha he was just the moment previously. Yuuri shivered in delight.

“Now show me where you put him, Yuuri.”

***

The drive to the mansion from the airport was long, the air thick with tension. At the doorstep, Yuuri allowed Viktor to enter the mansion first, following in close behind him. Their guards followed behind them.

In the centre of the hall was Volya, hunched over on his knees with Mila pressing a gun to the back of his head. Most of Viktor’s men were gathered in the hall around them as well. Mila retreated when she saw Viktor. Volya was trembling so hard with his fear that it seemed that the idea of trying to escape hadn’t even occurred to him.

“So here you are,” Viktor drawled.

“Pakhan, forgive me,” Volya blubbered. “I’m sorry, I did not, I did not see that you were right, I defied you. I shouldn’t have, I –“

“Oh dear, begging already?” Viktor pulled his gun out so swiftly that Volya didn’t have time to even flinch. The bang that ensued rang against the walls of the mansion, and several of the man gathered jumped in shock. Volya screamed in agony as he clutched at the leg Viktor had shot.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” Volya chanted, sobbing.

 _Bang, bang._ Viktor shot at Volya’s other leg, and then finally at his neck. Volya fell backwards, choking on the scream bubbling through his throat. It took half a minute for his body to stop twitching and the gurgling sounds to stop.

“How tiresome, he did not have to be so loud.” Viktor tucked his gun back into his coat. “My friends, you see that this is what happens to traitors. Especially those who dare make attacks on me and mine. The next time, I will not be so merciful. I trust that you understand me.” He did not wait for his men to nod before he stalked into the corridor to the side.

“Send the body to his family,” Yuuri told Georgi. Georgi dipped his head, moving out of his way.

Yuuri moved into the corridor Viktor had retreated to, following him into the library.

When Yuuri had closed the door and turned back, Viktor was on his knees before him. Yuuri stared.

“Yuuri, please forgive me. I left you alone. I failed to protect you. I failed to see that you were in pain.” Viktor bowed his head.

Before Viktor could continue, Yuuri rushed forward to kneel on the cold marble together with Viktor. “No,” he breathed, tears welling up in his eyes. “There is nothing to forgive, not for me. I didn’t tell you that I was hurting because I was too proud. I asked you to keep my secret although you told me that we should tell everyone and – and it’s because of me all this has happened. Please forgive _me_ , Viktor.” He shuddered.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Viktor echoed his words, winding his arms around Yuuri tightly and holding him close as Yuuri started to weep. They rocked together on the floor, the repetitive motion soothing Yuuri’s nerves.  

When Yuuri calmed, Viktor pulled back a little, gripping Yuuri’s chin gently so that he had no choice but to look at Viktor. “Solnyshko, you must tell me everything from now on. And so will I.”

“Okay,” Yuuri relented, exhausted. Viktor sighed and pressed close to him, rubbing a hand up and down his back. He closed his eyes and leaned into Viktor.

* * *

  _Rome_

Magnificent structures reached high into deep blue skies. The sun set behind the rows of buildings which lined the horizon, painting red and orange hues in abstract patterns. Yuuri crouched motionless by the window in an empty, dingy little room of an apartment, peering through the eyepiece of his rifle. His eyes were fixed on the grand balcony of the building opposite him.

A man, distinct with his silver hair and tailored suit, walked out onto the balcony, holding a glass between his fingers. Viktor looked up, and although it must have been impossible to see Yuuri at this distance, it was as if Viktor had pinpointed exactly where he was, and he smiled at Yuuri. He lifted his champagne glass and vanished back into the ballroom.

Yuuri cocked his gun, his eyes focused on his target. He was ready. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Threat of sexual assault and near-occurrence of sexual assault (though no actual sexual assault described); explicit gory description of bloody attack to random OC’s eyes; fight scenes (knives and gun shooting, physical grappling); implied sexual content (consensual); death of OC; some foul language; mentions of prostitution and trafficking as well as drug trade; perhaps imperfect descriptions of ballet moves too, so I'm sorry if you do ballet (I tried!)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my little fic!! <3 I'll be super happy if you left kudos and/or a comment, even if it's something as simple as to say that you liked it!


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